


To Show Our Love

by bleedingballroomfloor



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Henry, Canon Compliant, Date Night, Dates, Felching, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Love, Morning Sex, Moving, Moving In Together, Multiple Orgasms, Post-Canon, RWRB Romance Week, Riding, Shopping, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Alex, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, henry being the romantic sap he is, they're in love :")
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:21:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29032356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleedingballroomfloor/pseuds/bleedingballroomfloor
Summary: With Henry and Alex in the midst of moving into their new home together, Henry reflects on Valentine's Day and what the holiday meant to him growing up closeted in the palace, and more so, the new meaning that Alex brings to it.Written for RWRB Romance Week:Day 4: chocolateDay 6: confessionsDay 7: gift
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 40
Kudos: 144
Collections: RWRB Romance Week





	To Show Our Love

**Author's Note:**

> Remember when I finished posting my multichap and said I was going to be more quiet on here? That was a fucking lie. It's been just over a month and I've written nearly 25,000 words of fic for this fandom. Oh well. I'm certainly not mad about it.
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day! I was feeling sappy thinking about Alex and Henry's first Valentine's Day together as an official couple and had to write something about them, featuring a combination of prompts from the RWRB Romance Week list. Enjoy!

Henry wakes up on Valentine's Day morning to wet kisses on his neck.

He hums in content, pressing his body back against Alex, who seems incredibly set on sucking a dark hickey right under his ear. He chuckles softly as Alex places a gentle kiss on the bruised skin. "Morning, love," he whispers, his voice still clinging to sleep.

Alex moves himself entirely against Henry's body, and he's not surprised to feel Alex's hard cock against his ass. "Good morning," he says in return. His voice sounds much more clear than Henry's, signifying that he must have been awake for some time now. Henry blinks his eyes open. He shifts his gaze to the small digital clock he hastily placed on the nightstand when he first arrived last week before realizing that he never got around to setting it. He smiles to himself at his own fatuity.

Alex is back to kissing his neck, the underside of his jaw, the junction of his shoulder. He runs a hand down Henry's body and stops to squeeze his hip. "How did you sleep?" he asks.

"Hm. Better now that you're here," Henry answers honestly. He turns to move on his back. He slides his hand up Alex's bare arm, up his shoulder, his neck, stopping to cup at his jaw and pull him away from his tame attack at his neck. He meets his eyes, soft and tender and loving, dark eyelashes long enough to brush against his brow ridge. He slides his thumb over his cheekbone. "And you?"

"Oh, just peachy," Alex says, prompting a laugh to spill from Henry's lips. He threads his hands through his hair, leaning in. "How could I not, knowing that my gorgeous, sexy boyfriend was next to me the entire night?"

"We've slept in the same bed before," Henry points out in a feeble attempt to distract himself from the way Alex's words make him go weak at the knees.

"Yeah, but this is the first time we've slept in the same bed in our new home," Alex says with a brush of his lips against his.

And that, Henry agrees, is true. Their new home. Even though Henry has been staying in the brownstone for the past week, it still seems like a dream.

They've been wanting to start their move since the New Year. Hell, Henry's been wanting to move since he purchased the bloody thing. But after a long talk underneath the linden trees in the Kennedy Garden, they both realized that their desires to pack everything up and whisk away to New York couldn't immediately be fulfilled. And there was still some damage control to fix on Henry's end, and there was the inauguration coming up on Alex's end, and they're both still the Prince of England and the First Son of the United States, respectively, and it was looking as though this move might take longer than originally thought.

In the haze of the recent election and the inauguration, Henry has had a lot more time than Alex to start moving into the brownstone. Weekend-long trips here and there, stopping by to check on the security measures being put into place after doing paperwork for the shelter, bringing in small boxes filled with random trinkets to make it start to actually feel like their home. And it's slowly getting there: they have a bed and a nightstand in the bedroom. A small couch in the sitting room. A dark oak desk in the study, the floor littered with books that are home to a bookshelf they have yet to purchase. Even though the house is mostly bare, it already feels like more of a home to Henry than any room in the palace ever was.

It's the longest Henry has stayed in the brownstone so far — a whole week. He and Pez are in the midst of doing more hands-on work for the youth shelters, and Henry saw no reason why he should stay in a hotel when he could simply come back to the brownstone. And after a lot of convincing and a lot of back-and-forth from their respective teams, Alex managed to get out early from a climate change conference in Germany. His plane landed late last night, and Henry was there to greet him at the door upon his arrival, and Alex threw himself in his arms and kissed him deeply.

Alex seems very content in picking right up from where they left off last night, climbing into Henry’s lap and fitting their mouths together. Henry laughs into the kiss before pushing Alex off. "Morning breath," he explains rather breathlessly.

Alex rolls his eyes. "Babe, if you think morning breath is gonna scare me off, you are greatly mistaken." He nudges their noses together. "Come on. Let me kiss you."

But Henry shakes his head, still smiling. "Brush our teeth first," he insists as he rolls out of bed, dragging a groaning Alex with him.

The bathroom is just as bare as the rest of the house. Alex points out the changes he wants to make as they brush their teeth side-by-side. The walls, obviously, currently an ugly beige color, will have to be painted over. They can do it themselves, Alex promises, saying it'll be hilarious watching Henry work a paint roller, head to toe in stained clothes. He talks about a rug that they can get, maybe a circular one, right next to the sink; the plants that they can put up to give the room a bit of color; if they want to go for the "white mom look," as he puts it, and make a beach-themed bathroom. And Henry thinks he's never been more in love than he is now, standing naked next to Alex, watching as he spits toothpaste into the sink and ramble on how they could decorate the bathroom.

He shows him as such by the way he presses Alex up against the sink and captures his mouth in a desperate kiss. Alex melts into it, groaning, immediately reaching up to tangle his hands in Henry's hair. "I knew you were just as horny as me, you bastard," he says in between kisses, making Henry laugh against the column of his throat.

They make their way out of the bathroom and fall back against the bed, their mouths locked and hungry. Their tongues brush, and Alex tastes minty and fresh, and he smiles against his lips and moves to flip them over. Their cocks slide together as Henry settles low on Alex's hips. He glances down. They're both still hard.

Alex moves his hands up Henry's strong thighs, to his hips, squeezing. "You wanna take control today, baby?" he asks, his voice low, his eyes dark.

Henry cocks his head to the side. "That depends. Are you going to be good for me?" he says in return, licking his lips.

He can practically  _ feel  _ the shivers that erupt through Alex's body. "Fuck," Alex says quietly. He slides his hands further up Henry's body, brushing against the soft lines of his abs, his pecs, flicking both of his nipples with his thumbs. Henry bites down on his lip to suppress a moan. "Yeah, I'll be good. Where do you want me?"

Instead of answering, Henry dives down for another kiss, messy and untamed. He licks into Alex's mouth, relishing in his soft moans, the sharp hitches in his breath when Henry tugs on his curls, his desperate whimpers when Henry grinds their hips together. He pushes him up the bed and Alex moves with him, not risking their lips to break apart. Henry sucks on his tongue, and Alex keens _. _

"Hand," Henry says when they make it back to the top of the bed. Alex's head is pressed into the pillows, his brown curls splayed out against the white covers, framing his face in a way that's not unlike the halo of an angel. He pulls back to look at Henry, slightly confused, but holds out his hand. Henry wraps his long fingers around his wrist and grabs Alex's other hand with his own and brings them up to the headboard bars. Alex gasps quietly in understanding. He clutches onto the headboard bars in silent understanding. Henry nods, running his hands down his wrists, his forearms, his biceps, feeling every inch of him. He plants a chaste kiss upon his lips. "Stay," he murmurs when he draws back.

Henry wastes no time reaching across the nightstand and grabbing the bottle of lube and pack of condoms that Alex had so generously produced upon his arrival the previous night. Alex laughs when Henry drops the condoms on the bed and pops open the cap to the lube. "Someone's eager," he notes, his eyes sparkling.

Henry affectionately rolls his eyes at him. He squeezes a drop of lube onto his palm and reaches between their bodies, taking both of their cocks in his hand and giving one long stroke. The smirk on Alex's face immediately disappears. His hips thrust involuntarily into Henry's hand and a quiet groan slips from his mouth. Henry laughs breathlessly and continues stroking their cocks in tandem. He swipes his thumb over Alex's tip, his own cockhead, gathering the precome and spreading it over them so it's impossible to tell which one of them is leaking more. Henry bites down on his lip and moves his hand faster.

"Fuck — Alex," he gasps out at one point. They're shamelessly grinding their hips together, trying to get all the friction they possibly can. "You're so  _ hard,  _ oh, Christ —"

"Baby," Alex moans. Henry glances up; his hands are still clutching tight to the headboard bars. It makes his heart flutter. "You keep going like this, and sooner or later I'm gonna come."

"Fuck, right," Henry mutters to himself more than to Alex, and with great difficulty, he takes his hand off of their cocks. He lifts himself up and settles back down just above Alex's waist. Alex is smiling brilliantly up at him and Henry can't help it; he leans down and presses their lips together again. Alex immediately licks his tongue into his mouth, groaning, nipping at his bottom lip. 

Henry is lost in Alex and his taste and the wonderful things he can do with his mouth, so fucking lost, and he shifts, reaching behind him and rubbing two lube-slicked fingers against his own hole. He growls, pressing his ass back against his fingers. He slides them in easily, still stretched from last night, and his fingers almost immediately press against his prostate. Henry rubs the spot relentlessly, grinding down on Alex's stomach, opening his mouth and kissing him with twice as much fever.

"Oh,  _ fuck,"  _ Alex breathes out when they break apart for air. "Henry, are you fingering yourself?"

Henry nods, jabbing his fingers against his prostate and letting a guttural moan fly from his chest.

"Jesus Christ," Alex pants, kissing Henry again. "You can't just —  _ God,  _ babe," he gasps against his lips. "So fucking hot. You're so hot, you know that, right? Fuck, the things you do to me."

The roll of Henry's hips are becoming increasingly uncontrolled, and Alex's praise doesn't make his case any easier, so he pulls away from Alex's lips and removes his fingers. His hole clenches around nothing, feeling empty, and Henry knows that if he doesn't have Alex's cock inside of him in the next sixty seconds, he will quite literally fucking die.

He rips open the condom and twists around to roll it over Alex's hard length. He grabs the lube bottle and pours more onto his hand, tosses it into the mess of sheets unconsciously kicked down in a clump at the foot of the bed. Hastily slathering it over Alex's dick, he stands up on his knees and leans back until he can feel the head prodding at his entrance. He locks eyes with Alex and sinks down.

"Henry, oh my God,  _ fuck  _ —" Alex cries, tossing his head back. The muscles in his biceps are more pronounced than ever, and Henry can tell that Alex is using every bit of strength he has left in him to obey Henry's orders and keep his hands where he wants them. The realization makes something hot curl in his gut, and Henry rolls his hips experimentally until he's seated entirely on top of Alex's cock.

"Alex," he moans, "you feel so good." He rises up until just the head of his cock is inside him, then sinks back down, fast, trying to find a rhythm to work with. Alex is moaning, his head turned inwards, eyes squeezed shut. Henry snakes one hand between their bodies until he cups Alex's jaw. He carefully moves his head back into place, stroking his cheek lovingly. Alex blinks his eyes open. Smiles.

"I love you," Henry tells him. He shifts his hips, and Alex's cock hits his prostate just right. He cries out. "So much."

"I love you too," Alex says back, groaning when Henry starts bouncing up and down his cock. He moves with him, thrusting into the tight heat of Henry's ass, slamming into his prostate each time. "Baby, I — fuck, I don't think I can last —"

"Me too," Henry gasps. He can feel the heat pooling in the pit of his stomach and he grips his cock, stroking it in time with Alex's thrusts, but it's not enough. He doubles over, catching himself with a hand on Alex's chest and the other desperately fisting his dick. "Alex," he chokes out, whimpering desperately as his prostate is continuously abused. "Alex, touch me, please, I need to feel you."

And Alex is right there in no time, wrapping his hand next to Henry's on his cock and stroking in time, the other digging into his hip, guiding him, spurring him on. And it's the feel of Alex's hands on his skin that pushes him over the edge, that makes his gut curl in just the right way, that makes Henry writhe and thrust into his fist as the pleasure washes over him and he comes, spilling onto Alex's hand and stomach, hips jerking in sporadic little thrusts as Alex continues to fuck him through his orgasm, the promise of oversensitivity beginning to claw at his sides.

"Sweetheart," Alex manages, and then he pushes into Henry and stills. His mouth drops open in a loud moan, his taut stomach quivering underneath Henry's palms. Henry watches through lidded eyes as he rides out his orgasm, slightly sweaty and fucked-out and at peace, and it feels as though a golden drop of happiness fell in his chest and spread all throughout his body, warming him, setting him on fire.

He rises off Alex's dick and flops down next to him, immediately curling into his side. Alex smiles lazily, still catching his breath. He turns his head to the side and laughs into Henry's messy locks.

Morning sex, Henry thinks. Who knew? Because he certainly didn't. Before Alex, his relationships were a mess of mouths and limbs, a hurried fuck in someone's room at Uni, enthralled by the idea of hooking up with a prince and immediately shutting down when heaps of paperwork were presented. It wasn't as if one-night stands were all he knew, however. He had the occasional glimpse of exclusiveness, the friend with benefits, but that was all sex. Fleeting kisses in the dark, drunk handjobs under the covers. Nothing slow, nothing loving. Nothing like Alex is. And it still surprises him. It still surprises him that after years and years of being told that he would never be able to have this life, after telling  _ himself  _ that he would never be able to have it, he's finally allowed to.

Alex presses a sweet kiss to his temple. "Happy Valentine's Day, Hen.”

After they take a quick shower together and begrudgingly get dressed, they head downstairs, stepping over the mess of boxes as they make their way to the kitchen. It's probably the most put together room in the house, already equipped with an oven and a stove and a refrigerator that Henry had generously stocked up before Alex's arrival. Alex peers into the fridge and announces that it's a historical day for them; it's the first time they get to make breakfast together, and more importantly, Alex emphasizes, the first time he gets to see Henry try to cook. Henry just rolls his eyes and informs him that at this hour, they're pushing it calling it brunch, even, but helps Alex pull out a carton of milk and a box of eggs and anything else that he sets his eyes on. Henry is more than happy to stand back and let Alex take the lead. He's rather hopeless in the kitchen, and furthermore, he doesn't pretend like he's not.

Alex stops mid-explanation of how to make pancakes when he spots the coffee maker tucked in the corner of the counter. He grins and kisses Henry stupidly and says, "You bought me a goddamn  _ coffee maker,  _ you're the best, I knew there was a reason why I loved you," and Henry laughs against his lips and detaches himself to find the mug that he bought along with the coffee machine: plain white, patterned with tiny yellow roses.

"You're a sap," Alex tells him as he pours coffee grounds into the machine.

They have the coffee made and the pancake ingredients piled onto the counter when Henry notices a gaping flaw in their plan. "Alex," he says, trying and desperately failing to fight the smile of his face. "We don't have any. Erm. Appliances."

Alex stares at him for a moment. "Huh?"

"We don't have a sheet pan or a mixing bowl or any of that sort. I think we have a pot and maybe a small bowl. There's a handful of silverware in one of these boxes. But... but that's it."

It only takes a second of eye contact before Alex is snorting into his coffee, Henry laughing right along with him. "Jesus. We're terrible at this," Alex says, still snickering. He takes a sip of his coffee and sets it down on the counter. Right at home. "All right, Wales. We need to at least make  _ something.  _ Go find that silverware, I know I saw bread and butter in this heap. We'll make a grocery list later." He pauses. "Why the hell did you buy all this food and not think to get a pan?"

"I wanted you to think I was prepared!" Henry splutters.

"Could've fooled me. Now let's go, we don't have all day."

As it turns out, watching Alex try to cut into a loaf of bread with a butterknife (the only kind of knife they currently own) is much more entertaining than he thinks trying to make pancakes would be. Alex glares at him with no real bite to it and thrusts the knife in Henry's hand, telling him it's his turn. Henry shuts up fairly quickly after that.

But they manage, as they always do, and the toast tastes just as it should even if the slices are terribly done. They crowd against the counter and munch on their hastily made brunch and do as Alex promised; they work on a shopping list. He watches Alex write things down that he never even thought of, like paper towels, a toilet plunger, a can opener, batteries, and, "Laundry detergent, Hen, oh my  _ God,  _ how did you even keep yourself alive this whole week?" Henry takes it all in, eating toast with his boyfriend in the kitchen of their new home, writing up a shopping list, listening as Alex wonders aloud if it's worth it to buy some fabric softener as well, and he can't help himself from hauling Alex on top of the counter and fitting his mouth to his, the kiss messy and uncoordinated because he can't stop smiling.

He knows they're in their honeymoon phase. Well, let them. If he wants to get giddy over a shopping list and the simple fact that they're in the same fucking time zone again, he has the complete right to do so.

The actual act of shopping is an... experience, to put it lightly. Alex is appalled to hear that Henry has never been inside a Target before ("What did you expect, Alex?") and practically shoves him into the car and tells Cash to take them to the nearest Target. Alex is so weirdly excited about it that it rubs off on Henry. He forgets about the PPOs that follow them on the drive there, forgets about the Secret Service agents that trail behind them when they walk into the store. He can pretend that he and Alex are like every other couple that just moved in together and are searching for kitchen appliances that they very stupidly forgot to buy.

He glances over at Alex, one hand holding his, the other clutching the hastily written list. It's not so hard to pretend.

Henry never realized the amount of options there would be for something as simple as a pot. He lets Alex take charge, more than happy to stand with the cart and watch Alex pace up and down the aisles, snatching a random lid or strainer off the shelves and holding it up to him for his opinion. Henry doesn't say much other than, "It looks good." He doesn't know what else to say about it. It's a bloody  _ strainer,  _ for Christ's sake.

They end up with a good haul: a pot, two pans, a stack of plates, bowls, cups, and a hideous apron that says “Prince of the kitchen” that Alex refused to leave the store without. Henry doesn't even try to argue. More so, he doesn't want to. He'll wear all the stupid aprons in the world if it means that he gets to spend the rest of his days with Alex.

Henry can't resist it when they walk past the grocery aisles, all decked out for Valentine's Day. He reaches for a heart-shaped box of chocolates and tosses it in the cart. Alex kisses his hand and calls him cheesy. Henry is quickly realizing that he rather enjoys being cheesy.

They begin unpacking when they arrive back at the brownstone, plopped in the middle of the empty sitting room, boxes and random items scattered about. The box of chocolates is lying open between them, already half-empty. Bake Off is playing quietly in the background from Henry's laptop. It doesn't take long for them to get completely distracted by the chocolates and baking and not even two episodes in, they abandon the box of Henry's random trinkets and settle on the couch together, Henry's head on Alex's shoulder, Alex's hand on his thigh, the laptop carefully balanced on the arm of the couch and the chocolates in Alex's lap.

"If this is what happens every time we try to unpack," Henry says after another episode (the chocolates are long gone by then), "then we'll be living in an empty house until we're dead."

Alex laughs. "Hey, we'll get there eventually. But we got through one box already and we bought, you know, things that are necessary for our survival. I think we can say we were productive."

"If you say so," Henry teases, snuggling closer to Alex's side.

"Oh shit, hang on." Alex reaches into the pocket of his jeans and fishes out his phone, where an incoming call is flashing on his screen. He swipes to answer it, pressing the speaker button. "Hey June. Say hi to Henry."

"Hi Henry," June's voice sounds from the phone's speaker. "How's the move?"

"Slow," Henry answers honestly. "We may have given up."

"I don't know if I expected anything else," June says. "But don't worry, y'all got time. Anyway. Alex, I hate to do this, but Mom has something she wants you to look over, like, ASAP. I think it has something to do with whatever you and Raf were working on last week?"

Alex groans, dropping his head back against the couch. "Fuck no," he says. "I am  _ not  _ driving back down to DC just to look at one little thing for her. I'm still technically supposed to be in Germany! She wouldn't make me come back just for something stupid like that."

"Well, it was kind of your idea, so stop having good ideas next time," June jokes. "But lucky for you, I'm currently an hour away from New York City, and Mom agreed —"

"How the hell are you an hour away from the cities?" Alex interrupts.

"I'm interviewing the mayor for my column this week, Alex, I told you this two fucking days ago —"

"Do you really expect me to remember anything from two days ago?"

_ "Anyway," _ June says loudly, "Mom told me what she needs you to check out and she agreed to let me be the messenger. That way you don't have to make the drive all the way back."

Alex glances at Henry, who shrugs and says nothing. "I guess that's a little better. Fine, just stop by here and we can get this shit done."

"Alex," Henry says quickly, because that won't work, oh no, that would throw off the entire plan. "We have no furniture. You two won't be able to work properly here. Go meet up in a nice restaurant or coffee shop in the cities and get your work done there. I'm sure it won't take long."

"But I want to spend time with you," Alex pouts, and Henry's heart swells.

"You shouldn't be gone for any longer than an hour," June pipes up. "I promise. I know how long y'all have been waiting to start the move."

Henry leans over, kisses Alex's cheek. "It's only an hour, love," he murmurs.

Alex sighs. "Fine," he tells June. "But only for an hour. A minute over and I'm leaving."

"Fair enough," June says. "Thanks, Alex. I'll text you the details when I get closer. See you then. Bye, Henry."

"Goodbye," Henry says just before Alex ends the call. He drops the phone back onto the couch cushion and presses his whole body against Henry. He groans in annoyance against Henry's neck, making him laugh. "You'll be okay," he tells him.

"I want to spend time with you," Alex says again.

"And I too," Henry says back, pressing a kiss into his curls. "But your mother needs your help. We expected this, darling. Our lives are still going to be crazy for quite some time."

"Fuck our lives," Alex mumbles. "Fuck our titles."

Henry laughs quietly. "I know." He kisses his head again. "But it's only an hour. Now stop acting like a grump and finish this episode with me."

Alex rolls his eyes and kisses him on the mouth, but settles back against him to watch the rest of Bake Off. There's still time after the episode ends before Alex has to meet up with June, so they continue on with unpacking, nearly making it through the box they abandoned earlier before Alex has to leave. Henry follows Alex to the front door and hands him his winter coat and finds himself unable to pull away when Alex fists his collar in his hands and kisses him over and over again, whispering teasing lines of, "Will you remember me after I've been gone for so long?" and "I'll write to you every minute," making Henry laugh every time their lips meet. He finds his restraint eventually and pushes Alex away, and Alex grins and presses one more fleeting kiss to his lips, and then he's gone.

It should be pathetic how quickly Henry starts to miss him. It should be. But after the year they've been through, he won't be ashamed of missing his boyfriend, no matter how short of time they're apart.

He gets even more reassurance when, not even two minutes later, his phone buzzes with a message from Alex:  _ miss you already sweetheart. don't get too comfortable without me xoxo _

_ I wouldn't dream of it, _ Henry writes back.

Now, it's time to put his plan into action.

Henry has never had a positive association with Valentine's Day. It was nothing more than another reminder of the lie he had to live, the life that he never thought he could have. In his years at secondary school, Valentine's Day consisted of giggling groups of girls daring each other to ask out a prince and short, stolen glances at boys that caught his attention. In Uni, the holiday was full of pubs and drinking and maybe, just maybe, a man in his bed. In the past year or two, it was marked by an arranged date out in London. Not many fond memories to look back on.

He didn't hate the holiday. In fact, he was rather envious of it — he too wanted nothing more than to take someone he fancied out on a date. He wanted to hold his imaginary date's hand as they walked down the street and longed to buy chocolates and flowers for him and daydreamed of kissing him goodnight outside the steps to his home. He hated that he couldn't do any of those things with someone he actually wanted.

Which is why he called June days in advance with his plan, and lucky for them both that she would be in New York over the holiday, and she assured him that she could come up with an excuse to get Alex out of the house for long enough. Why he hid away a box of strawberries and a bottle of champagne in the back of the refrigerator and a bag of chocolate chips in one of the cabinets, and Alex didn't even think to look in there when they were planning their brunch, didn't suspect that Henry was up to anything. Why he called a local florist shop the night before Alex's arrival and arranged for a bouquet of red roses to be delivered to the brownstone later tonight, the delivery being expected in the next twenty minutes. He's going to make tonight the Valentine's Day date he always dreamed of having.

Henry knows he's a little short on time, just under an hour to get everything he has planned set up, so he wastes no time heading to the kitchen and pulling out the chocolate chips stashed inside of a glass bowl. Even with his limited cooking skills, he knows he can't mess this one up. He  _ practiced.  _ He may not be able to cook up a delicious, five-star meal like he pictured in his fantasies, but he can damn well whip up some chocolate-covered strawberries.

It doesn't take very long to melt the chocolate chips in the microwave and drip the strawberries in the gooey sauce. He lays them out on one of the newly bought plates and sets it in the fridge to harden. He hasn't even let go of the fridge handle before the doorbell rings with what can only be the flower delivery. The bouquet is large and grand and beautiful, just as he hoped it would be. Henry sets it carefully on the kitchen counter and hurries to slip on his shoes and winter coat, and then he's out the door and walking to a local Mexican restaurant he became quite fond of when he first arrived at the brownstone, a small team of PPOs trailing dutifully behind him.

He places an order for his usual go-to and orders something with a little more spice in it for Alex. He's been experimenting with more heat, partly because he genuinely wants to, and partly because he wants to prove a point to Alex. It doesn't take long for the food to be prepared and packaged up for him, but just as he's walking back up the steps of the brownstone, he gets a text from Alex, saying that he'll be back home in ten minutes.

Ten minutes. That doesn't give him much time. He fishes a few of the empty moving boxes out of one of the many bare rooms and pushes them together into a makeshift table in front of the couch. If he throws one of the extra bed sheets over it, it almost looks like a table at a fancy restaurant, tablecloth and all. He sets the food upon the "table" and walks upstairs to the bedroom to change. Henry wants to make this as much of a date night as it can be, and if that's the case, he's going to dress the part. He slips on his chinos, a light blue button down, and dark blazer. He pauses in the bathroom to fix his hair and glances at the time on his phone before hurrying back downstairs. It's been nine minutes since Alex texted. He's going to be home any minute. Henry's stomach lurches uncomfortably. Oh Christ, not now. He doesn't want the nerves to set it now.

He's just finished pouring the champagne into the glasses (yet another gem that he very fortunately remembered to pack) when a loud knock sounds from the front door. Henry smiles to himself and tries not to leap towards the entryway. He ducks into the kitchen to grab the bouquet of flowers still sitting on the counter, and with a deep breath, opens the door.

"It's a fucking  _ crime  _ that I don't have a key for this place yet," Alex says immediately, throwing himself in Henry's arms. He tilts his head up and presses their lips together, sighing against his mouth. "I missed you. I fucking missed you and I was only gone for an hour, Henry, we're gonna be such an annoying couple, oh my  _ God." _

"If it makes you feel better, I missed you as well," Henry tells him. He cards his hand through Alex's curls. "How was the briefing?"

"Honestly? Really fucking weird." Alex toes off his boots and unzips his coat, not even noticing Henry's new attire or the flowers in his hand. Henry hides his amused smile behind his hand. "I don't even remember my mom being interested in this idea, but June said she was completely on board, so I guess she had a change of heart? I don't know. Something felt off, though, and I can't really describe why —"

He stops, finally taking Henry in for the first time since stepping foot inside the house. His eyes dart to the bouquet. "Are those for me?"

Henry nods, holding them out for Alex to take. "Happy Valentine's Day, love."

Alex laughs. He takes the bouquet from Henry and looks him up and down. "Oh my God, look at you. You look gorgeous, baby, are you trying to kill me? Did I miss a memo or something?"

"No memo," Henry says, taking Alex's hand and lacing their fingers together. "Just a surprise. And perhaps a bit of self-indulgence on my end."

They walk hand-in-hand to the living room, and Alex's mouth drops open when he sees the small meal set up. He laughs, loud and full. "Once again," he says, his eyes full of affection, "you are an absolute sap."

Henry can't help it. He leans in and kisses Alex's lips again. "I, erm. I always imagined doing something like this," he says quietly once they've broken apart. "Or, hoped, I guess. That would be a better way to put it. I've never... I've never been able to do these grand gestures. Not for the people I truly wanted, anyway. And yes, it's Valentine's Day, and yes, it's quite cheesy, but it's also the first time we get to be in our new home together. I figured we should celebrate."

"Of course," Alex says softly, grinning affectionately at him. "Babe, I'd let you pick me up in a limo like I'm your fucking prom date if you wanted to. I think it's beautiful." He pauses for a second, then gasps. "You fucker! You sent me away with June to set all this up, didn't you?"

Henry shrugs one shoulder. "Guilty."

"If it was for any other reason, I'd be mad at you." Alex kisses him one more time, humming contentedly against his lips. "If you're taking me on a date, I'm not going to stay in these clothes while you look like this." He squeezes Henry's ass, causing a surprised gasp to slip from his lips. "You stay here and keep looking pretty, okay?"

Henry never knows how to respond when Alex says things like that, so he laughs weakly, and Alex simply kisses his cheek before heading out of the room and to their bedroom. He uses Alex's brief absence to get the plate of strawberries out the refrigerator and set them down next to their dinner. He smiles dumbly at the scene — a Valentine's Day meal in their unfinished home, complete with desserts and champagne. A vision he never let himself believe he would be able to see.

He loses all the breath in his lungs when Alex walks back into the sitting room. He's wearing a dark red button up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and the top buttons undone, the shirt tucked into a pair of dark jeans. He looks positively stunning. A fleeting thought crosses Henry's mind. The thought that he'll never get tired of seeing Alex in their home.

"I can't believe you did all this," Alex says once they've settled down on the couch. He pulls the takeaway box into his lap. "Mexican, huh?"

Henry smiles sheepishly. "I may have missed you whenever I was here. I did some poking around the city, and I found this place. I thought you would enjoy it."

"Now I need to teach you how to cook Mexican food. You can't rely on takeout forever, babe."

"That may take a bit more time," Henry chuckles. He points to the plate of strawberries. "I did, however, make that. I know it's small. I just wanted to do something for you."

Alex catches his hand in his, lacing their fingers together, bringing his hand up to kiss his knuckles. "This is everything," he says, his eyes twinkling. "I wish I knew you were planning this. I would've gotten something for you."

"I told you, this was part of my own fantasy. Consider it a gift for the both of us."

As they eat, Henry thinks back to where they were a year ago. Somewhere in between the state dinner and the charity polo match. Somewhere in between their second kiss, a kiss that was so much better than the first because Alex was the one who initiated it, because Henry knew that Alex wanted him at least a fraction of how much Henry wanted him, and that was a good enough excuse to kiss him back and let Alex shove him against the portrait of Alexander Hamilton; the first night they hooked up, the first time Henry felt the swell of Alex's cock in his hand, the first time he had his mouth on him, the first time Alex flipped him onto his back and did just the same. Somewhere in between then and the second time they hooked up, much more rushed and dangerous and sexy because Henry had a fleeting idea of what tickled Alex's buttons, what brought him closer to the edge and what made his mouth drop open and call him "baby."

It was a rather odd place to be, Henry thinks. He was so hopelessly in love with Alex, and Alex, well. He had just come to terms with his sexuality; Henry knew that. He wonders if that was what made him keep telling himself that their relationship would never amount to anything more than casual flings. It was that thought that kept him sane through the early days of their relationship. If he let himself think that Alex would want him just as much as Henry wanted him, if he let himself chase the fantasy of Alex being just in love with him, the crushing blow of reality would scar him even more.

And then Paris happened, and they fell asleep together for the first time. And then LA happened, and Alex fucked him for the first time. And then Texas happened, and Alex was seconds away from saying "I love you." And then Kensington happened, and Henry let himself have his love.

"Hey," he hears himself say, "is this our first date?"

This makes Alex pause. He takes a sip of his champagne, clearly mulling the question over. "If it is," he says slowly, "then I can't believe we decided to move in together before having a first date."

Henry laughs at that. "No, seriously. Has anything we've done ever constituted as a date?"

"Well," Alex starts, "I don't think the New Year's party was a date. I mean, I didn't even know you were gay. You just kissed me and fled. Hardly first date worthy."

"Yes, right, we don't have to talk about that," Henry protests, already feeling a blush rise to his cheeks.

"And then there's the state dinner," Alex continues. "But you were scheduled to come anyway. Again, not a first date. Although the blowjobs were an added bonus."

"Not Connecticut," Henry continues. "I saw you for barely an hour."

"Right, right," Alex agrees, tapping on his chin. "Uh. Paris?"

Henry pauses. "You did take me to a cafe," he says eventually.

Alex nods. "We talked. We got drunk. Again, blowjobs. Sounds like a date to me."

"Ah, because nothing screams 'first date' more than drunken blowjobs."

"Hey!" Alex squawks, and Henry laughs into his champagne glass. "Paris was romantic, you bastard. That was, well." He stops. "Never mind."

"What?"

"Nothing. It's sappy," Alex mutters.

"Love, after all this, I don't think tonight can get any sappier." Henry squeezes Alex's hand. "You know you can tell me."

Alex smiles softly. He rolls his eyes.  _ "Fine,  _ God, but only because I love you," he says casually, as if those words don't make Henry's heart ache in his chest every time he utters them. "I was gonna say that Paris was the first time — y'know. It was the first time we woke up together. And I woke up before you that morning, and I remember just watching you sleep, and you looked peaceful for once in your life, and... I don't know. I think it was the first time I entertained myself with the thought of us being, like, an actual couple. Subconsciously, at least."

Henry blinks. "You never told me that," he says softly.

"I told you it was sappy."

"I thought the same thing," Henry says. "When you were in the shower that morning, I was lying on the bed and thinking of everything that had happened, and I thought this was the type of thing that you would do with a lifelong partner, and it scared me. Not because I didn't want it. Because I did, because I wanted it terribly, and I thought it would never be able to become a reality."

Alex grins. "And look at us now."

Henry leans over, places a careful kiss on his lips. "I'm thankful for everything you've given me," he murmurs.

Alex cups Henry's face with one hand, pursing his lips together. "Fuck you, you can't make me cry like that," he teases, but his words have a quiver to them. He kisses Henry again, deeper, more lingering this time. "I'm thankful for everything, too. So thankful. Fuck, you don't even know."

And maybe Alex is right. Maybe he doesn't know. He thinks he has a good guess, however.

They finish their meal and pour more glasses of champagne and take turns feeding each other the strawberries until well into the night. And Alex has been teasing him the entire time, brushing his hand against his knee much longer than a casual touch, pressing soft kisses to his jaw and cheek, carding his fingers through his hair with just the hint of a tug. Henry feels like a coil about to burst. He doesn't remember when the desire set in, but it's flowing freely through his body now, and he wants nothing more than Alex's body under him. Or himself under Alex. A shiver runs down his spine.

"All right, Diaz," he finally caves after Alex kisses him behind his ear, right on top of the hickey he sucked into the skin only just this morning. His words are slightly slurred. It might have something to do with the empty champagne bottle that now sits in between the empty food containers. "It's Valentine's Day, and I've been nothing but romantic the entire evening, so stop your teasing and actually come here so I can kiss you properly."

Alex laughs against his throat. "Sometimes I forget how unfiltered alcohol makes you," he hums. He slides his nose along Henry's jaw, up the line of his cheekbone until their foreheads are touching, their lips barely inches apart. It has Henry shivering with anticipation. "You want me to kiss you?"

Henry nods.

But Alex clicks his tongue. "I don't know, baby. It's kinda fun teasing you —"

Henry has had enough. He fists Alex's shirt and brings their mouths together in a crushing kiss. He opens his mouth, slipping his tongue inside, and any resolve that Alex might have had left disappears as he moans wantonly and thrusts his tongue against Henry's. His hands fly up to his shoulders and immediately push the blazer off his torso. Henry whimpers at the feeling of Alex's strong hands on him, moving to undo the buttons of his shirt, nipping at his bottom lip as he does so.

They get Henry out of his shirt, and soon enough Alex's follows, and then Alex is climbing into his lap and pressing him into the couch cushions as he attaches his mouth to his neck. He kisses and licks down his jaw, tugs his earlobe with his teeth, sucks on his pulse point. Henry isn't capable of doing much other than lying there and taking it, spurring Alex on with his own cries of pleasure. He squeezes his hand in between their tightly pressed bodies and palms at Alex's crotch where a sizable bulge is already quite prominent. Alex falters at the touch, moaning quietly when Henry starts to rub him. His hips buck up on their own accord.

"Should we —" Henry gasps out when Alex bites down on his skin. "Fuck, Alex." He moves his hand faster, turns his head to the side to capture Alex's lips in a messy kiss. He loses himself in the feel of Alex's soft lips against his for a moment before speaking again. "Should we move this to our room?"

Their room. Their own room, in their own home. Together.

Alex nods, sucking Henry's bottom lip into his mouth. "Yeah, probably," he says breathlessly. He moves his hips in time with Henry's hand for a while more, then with a groan more out of annoyance than pleasure, grabs Henry's wrist and pulls his hand away. "I, um," he starts when he sits back. His chest is rising and falling with each heavy breath, a dark flush to his cheeks and neck, and Henry is transfixed by his beauty. Alex cups his face, snapping him out of his gaze. "I actually lied earlier. I do have something for you. Well, us. But I think you'll like it."

Now that piques Henry's interest. "What is it?"

Alex bites his lip, suddenly looking nervous. He reaches behind him into his back pocket and pulls out a crumpled envelope. He presses it in Henry's hand.

Slightly bewildered, Henry sits up. He opens the envelope and out falls folded-up pieces of paper. He picks them out of his lap and unfolds them. It looks like lab results.

"I got tested earlier this month," Alex tells him. "I was pretty sure that I was already clean but I wanted to make sure. And, well, you can see that I am. So I was thinking, y'know, we're exclusive. Condoms can get annoying. If you want to try it out... well, I'm not gonna lie and say that the idea of fucking you raw isn't a major turn on."

Henry swallows. "I've never not used a condom before," he says. "I'm clean as well."

"I know, baby," Alex says with a soft kiss to his lips. "We don't have to if you don't want to. I just thought I'd bring the idea to the table."

"No," Henry says quickly. "No, I want to." His grip on the papers tightens. Because of course he wants to, of course he's fantasized about this, about the feel of Alex's cock pushing into him, being able to feel every hot inch of him, Alex coming inside of him and feeling his come drip out of his ass. "So much."

Alex grins. He pulls Henry as close as possible to him and kisses him hard, smiling throughout it. Henry falls right into it. He's about to shove down his trousers and have Alex take him right there on the couch when Alex pulls away and stands up, grabbing Henry's hands and dragging him up with him.

It's an uncoordinated, messy stumble up the stairs and to their room because they can't seem to get their hands off each other, pausing to shove Alex against the wall and grind their hips together, or Alex attacking the button of Henry's chinos in a desperate attempt to shove his hand down his pants. By the time they fall onto their bed, they're not much farther from where they started — Alex's jeans shoved down to mid-thigh, one of Henry's pant legs caught around his ankle. But then Alex pushes down his boxers and has his hand around him, half-hard and leaking slightly at the tip, and any concern of their lack of nudity flies right out of Henry's mind.

"Feel good, baby?" Alex asks in a low voice. He immediately picks up a fast pace with his hand, squeezing Henry from base to tip, thumbing over the sensitive head of his cock. 

Henry nods desperately. "Yes," he breathes out. He sounds wrecked, so wrecked already, and Alex has only just started to touch him. He hisses in pleasure when Alex drops his hand lower to touch and stroke his balls. "Get — fuck, get your trousers off, I want to see you, too."

Alex laughs, but does as requested. He kicks off his jeans the rest of the way and tosses them to the floor, even taking the time to untangle Henry's pants from his ankle and letting that drop as well. He pulls his boxers down in one smooth tug, and Henry follows with his own, moves up the bed until Alex climbs on top of him and pushes him into the pillows. He's fully hard by now, and judging by the wet slide of Alex's dick against his, so is Alex. He moans before he can stop himself. 

Alex leans down and attaches his mouth to his nipple. He licks over the hardening bud, then sucks. Henry's hands instinctively fly to grip at Alex's curls. Alex chuckles against his chest and sucks on his nipple again. His hand comes up to pinch at Henry's other nipple, making Henry writhe underneath him. 

"Fuck, you're so  _ responsive," _ Alex groans a moment later, like he can't believe it, like Henry hasn't been fucked twice already in the span of twenty-four hours. He slides his hand down Henry's stomach, down his waist, to his cock, wrapping his hand around him again and stroking twice, three times, gathering the precome on his fingers. His hand slides even lower, down his perineum, until it's nestled in between the cleft of his ass, and without warning, he pushes two precome-covered fingers into Henry's hole.

Henry moans. The stretch is there, but barely, still well loose from this morning and the previous night. He's slightly sore, but it's a good kind of pain, a reminder of Alex and what he can do to him, a reminder of what's about to come. Alex jabs his fingers against his prostate, and Henry chokes back a whimper.

"Look at you," Alex whispers. "You're still so loose; I bet I could fuck you right now and wouldn't even have to prep you. How does that sound, sweetheart? Do you want me to get on with it and fuck you?"

And while that sounds wonderful, and the moan that rises deep from Henry's chest seems to think so as well, Henry shakes his head. "Your fingers," he gasps. "I want to feel you."

Alex groans, dropping his head to rest on Henry's chest. "I don't know how I keep forgetting how much you like it when I finger you," he says weakly. He places a soft kiss on his collarbone. "You got the lube?"

"It's —  _ ah _ — Christ, it's somewhere around here," Henry manages as Alex continues thrusting his fingers in and out of him, relentlessly hitting his prostate each time. His cock is so hard by now that he thinks he'll come the second Alex touches him.

"There we go," Alex says offhandedly, fishing the lube bottle from where it was tangled within the sheets. He pulls his fingers out, much to Henry's disappointment, and squeezes some of the substance on his fingers. Then three fingers are pushing into Henry's hole, sliding in deep, making Henry drop his head back into the pillows and groan.

"You're taking my fingers so well," Alex continues, his praise hitting Henry right in the gut. "You look so good like this, baby, so beautiful. Fuck, I just need to —" And without a moment's hesitation, he sits back in between Henry's legs and lowers his mouth on his cock.

"Oh my fucking Christ," Henry chokes out, moaning when Alex flattens his tongue along the underside of his dick and sucks. He grips harder on his curls. The combination of Alex's fingers inside of him and the drag of Alex's tongue on his cock is too much, all too much, and his orgasm is just below the surface but his body moves on autopilot, hips snapping to the rhythm of Alex's fingers, making Alex moan around his cock. It sends vibrations all throughout Henry's body. He shivers.

Alex pulls off nearly all the way, only keeping the head of Henry's cock in his mouth. He uses his free hand to grip the base and blinks his eyes in Henry's direction. He swirls his tongue around the head while simultaneously moving his hand up and down Henry's shaft. Henry can't handle it, not with Alex's mouth and hand on his cock and Alex's fingers pushing against his prostate, not with Alex blinking up at him through his gorgeous fucking eyelashes, not with Alex groaning around his cock like it's just as good for him on his end. Moans are spilling from his lips, and his fingers are tight in Alex's hair, and he keeps moving his hips, and he's going to come if Alex doesn't let up, the pleasure is just too good —

"Gonna come, gonna come," Henry manages to choke out moments before he loses it, letting out a soft gasp when Alex pulls off his cock and withdraws his fingers. He lets his eyes flutter shut as he tries to catch his breath. Alex's lips delicately drag over his skin, ever so often leaving a kiss on the inside of his thighs. A lazy grin spreads across Henry's face before he can stop it, and he giggles quietly.

"What is it?" he hears Alex ask, sounding amused. He sounds closer as well. Henry opens his eyes to see Alex's face right in front of his, his hands pressed against the mattress on either side of Henry's shoulders, a smile of his own on his face. He cocks his head to the side. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, nothing," Henry promises, cupping Alex's jaw in his hand. He can feel his growing orgasm die down slightly, sharpening his brain, making him think more clearly. "You just always know how to make me feel good."

Alex turns his head, kisses the palm of Henry's hand. "You make me feel good, baby," he confesses. "I love you so much."

"I love you." Henry slides his hand down Alex's jaw and to his neck, stopping when his fingers brush against the chain holding the key and Henry's old ring. The two objects are swinging slowly between them, dangling down from the angle Alex is at. Henry takes them in his fingers and brings them to his lips. He kisses the key first, softly, looking into Alex's eyes, and then the ring, letting his lips linger for a moment. Alex just stares at him. Henry can't tell if the look on his face is one of awe or pure adoration.

Alex bends his head down and kisses Henry's mouth ever so softly, just a whisper of lips, a kiss mixed with promises of what's to come and reminders of what led them to this moment. Henry kisses him back just as delicately. He moves his legs to wrap around Alex's waist, digging his heels in the small of Alex's back. Alex laughs against his lips. "You're not wasting any time."

"I want to feel you." Henry kisses him again, open-mouthed, with tongue. "All of you."

Alex groans into his mouth. "That can be arranged."

He sits back on his heels and pours more lube into his hand, lathering it onto his hard cock. Henry eyes it almost hungrily. He draws Alex in as close as he can without actually having him push in, until only the swollen cockhead is rubbing against his hole. He bites on his lip to suppress a whine.

"You ready?" Alex asks.

"Of course I am."

With that, Alex is pushing in. Henry's hole is so stretched and loose that there's barely any resistance from his muscles and he can feel every inch of Alex's cock sinking into him, hot and throbbing and eager. A broken moan escapes Henry's lips, Alex following with one of his own, not stopping until he's buried all the way inside of him. He takes Henry's hand in his and tangles their fingers together, pressing their joined hands into the mattress. He tips his head until their foreheads are pressed together. They're touching in every way possible — hands, foreheads, hips, everywhere. Henry has never felt more pleasure than right now in this moment.

"Good?" Alex whispers, a brush of his lips against his cheek.

Henry kisses him on the chin, right on the dimple. "Wonderful."

Alex starts to move. It's so much different than last night, full of urgency and desperation and reunions, and it's so much different than this morning, lazy and sleepy and giddy. When Alex thrusts back in, it's slow, slower than they usually go for, but with just as much purpose to it. Henry moans softly and cants his hips up to meet Alex on the next thrust. Alex's grip on his hand tightens. He pulls back and pushes back in again, just as slow but deeper than before, making Henry's walls open up even more.

"Sweetheart," Alex gasps, pressing a kiss to his sweaty neck. He groans against Henry's skin and his hips snap up with a little more urgency. "You feel so good right now. Fuck, I can feel all of you, you're so perfect, Henry, you're so fucking  _ perfect  _ —"

"So are you," Henry whimpers. He threads his free hand through Alex's hair. "You're so — oh Christ." He falters when Alex's next thrust hits his prostate dead-on. "Right there, please, Alex, please."

"I've got you, baby." Alex squeezes his palm and moves his hips faster. "Tell me what you need, and I'll give it to you. I'll give you anything. I hope — oh Jesus, oh fuck," he pants when Henry clenches around his cock. "I hope you know that. Fuck, do that again. You're so tight, Hen, how are you still so tight, you're so fucking hot," he rushes out, and then his mouth is on his again, licking into his mouth, lips hungry and warm and pliant.

"I love you," Henry whispers against his lips. He's lost count of how many times he's told Alex so, but it doesn't matter, because there will never be enough time in the world for Henry to tell Alex how deep his love runs. He wants to shout it from the rooftops, he wants to publish it in every newspaper known to man (and in a way, he has), but most of all, he wants to hold Alex close and whisper it directly into his ear, and even then, he's not quite certain that Alex will fully understand the extent to which he loves him. He could write him a thousand letters and a thousand emails, but no words will ever do his love justice. So he settles on telling him those three words over and over again: "I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you."

"Oh my God, Henry," Alex manages, his face contorting in pleasure. His thrusts are threatening to go sloppy, Henry can tell, knows just from the quiver in his thighs and the tightness in his shoulders that Alex is doing everything in his power to hold himself back. He snakes his free hand in between their bodies and wraps it around Henry's dick. Jolts of pleasure immediately surge through Henry's body. Alex strokes him in time with his thrusts, and their mouths are still so desperate, and every single nerve in Henry's body feels electrified; nothing has ever felt so good and he never wants this to stop.

He slips a hand down Alex's back and grabs his ass, his hand possessive, and Alex groans and sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. Their bodies are moving fluidly now, hips bucking in tandem, joined hands squeezing tightly, whispering sentiments and dirty talk against each other's kiss-bitten lips. Alex thumbs over the slit and Henry moans, throwing his head back, giving Alex access to suck and bite at neck. Henry is faintly aware that he has to meet with Pez in the morning to do more work for the shelters, and he knows that this is basically an open invitation for his lighthearted teasing, but it's been over a year's worth of NDAs and "no visible marks" rules and he and Alex are finally together again, and what's more, it's the first time they can simply  _ be,  _ so Henry cranes his head to the side and practically offers himself to Alex, who happily bites down on his jaw.

"I'm close," Henry warns him. He shivers with every twist of Alex's hand on his cock, every bruising thrust against his prostate.

"Fuck, me too." Alex drops his head on Henry's shoulder. "I — I know it's kinda the whole point of not using a condom —  _ fuck,  _ baby." He kisses Henry's collarbone. "But I just wanna make sure — can I come inside you?"

Henry's eyes roll back into his head, a low, desperate moan escaping him before he can stop it. "Please," he manages.

"Shit, yeah, okay." Alex's thrusts, if possible, grow even faster. "You don't know how hot you look, Henry, you're so good, so fucking good for me, baby —"

Alex breaks off with a gasp, pushes in as deep as he can, and spills inside of Henry. It's unlike anything he's ever felt before. He can feel Alex's cock pulsing, warm come filling him up and pressing against his walls. It's hot, it's so unbelievably hot, but what makes the moment even more mind-blowingly sexy is the fact that it's Alex. It's Alex coming inside of him for the first time, the man that he loves above anything else, claiming him, painting his walls white, fucking him through his own orgasm and sucking his earlobe between his lips and fisting his cock, and that's what does it for Henry. A great, guttural moan escapes from his chest as his orgasm explodes from him, lifting his hips off the mattress from the intensity of it. He comes all over Alex's fist and his own stomach, his hips giving these wild little thrusts as the blissed-out orgasmic state washes over his body. Alex keeps fucking him through it as best as he can until Henry's legs loosen their death grip on his waist, and then he's collapsing on top of Henry, looking just as fucked out as Henry feels.

"Oh, Christ," Henry murmurs. Alex's hand is still wrapped loosely around him and his dick is still buried in Henry's ass, slowly starting to soften. Henry clenches around him. He can  _ feel  _ Alex's come inside of him, and it's the most erotic thing he's ever felt, and suddenly the one orgasm doesn't feel nearly enough, and clearly his cock thinks so as well, staying half-hard and twitching in anticipation in Alex's grip. With a weak moan, Henry moves his hand from Alex's ass and runs his fingers over the head of his own dick. Shivers immediately run through his body, startling Alex, who lifts his head from Henry's shoulder.

"Holy shit," Alex says quietly.

Henry can feel Alex's cock twitch inside of him, a fucking sexy sensation, making him groan. He grips his cock harder, swipes his thumb over the tip. "Alex, love, I need —" he starts

"Yeah," Alex finishes. He starts to move his own hand over Henry's dick, stroking faster than Henry's slow pace, making him writhe and hiss from overstimulation but nothing has ever felt so good. "I might not be able to fuck you again, though. At least not yet."

"That's okay," Henry breathes out. He moves his hand to his balls, dragging his fingers over his sack, the skin drawn up so tight already, and it doesn't make sense how turned on he still is, how quickly he gets hard again. But then Alex groans against the hollow of his throat and flicks his wrist in just the right way and, yeah, it does make sense. Henry squeezes Alex's hand that's still tangled with his own, just to feel him, just to remind himself that he's real and he's here and this is their life now, and Alex squeezes back immediately. Henry feels as though his heart could burst.

"Let me try something, okay?" Alex mutters, tilting his head up to capture Henry's lips a slow, sweet kiss. "I'm gonna make you feel so good. I promise."

Henry nods. "I trust you."

Alex kisses him once more before starting to pull away. He moves lower down the bed, his cock slipping out of Henry as he does so, and if Henry thought the feeling of Alex's come inside him was the most erotic thing he would ever know of, he was devastatingly wrong. His hole feels stretched and well-fucked, clenching around nothing, and the sensation of Alex's semen leaking out of him makes something twist in his gut and a warm flush to spread through his face. He lets Alex move him where he wants him, not even bothering to pay attention to whatever position he's in until he can feel Alex's hot breath right against his hole.

His head snaps up. "What —"

Alex spreads Henry's legs with one hand while he uses the other to sink three fingers back into Henry's slick hole, pressing right up against his prostate. A moan escapes deep from Henry's chest and he drops his head back onto the pillows. The force of his last orgasm is still fresh on his mind but Alex keeps pushing his fingers into him, sending tremors all throughout his body, and it feels so good and every nerve in his body is so sensitive and his dick is hard again, and suddenly Alex has his mouth replacing his fingers and is pressing his tongue against his hole, licking up the excess lube and come and swallowing it down, moaning as he does so, pushing his face further in between Henry's cheeks to get his tongue deeper.

Henry can't stop the moans and groans falling from his lips, can't help the way his ass pushes back against Alex's awaiting mouth. He's had his ass eaten out multiple times before, Alex being no stranger to that, but this is an entirely different level of pleasure. Alex's tongue is rubbing at his rim, his strong hands keeping his legs open and wide, and Henry is so fucking gone from the intensity of it all, his mind reeling, and when he finally gets the strength to lift his head back up and look at Alex, he nearly comes on the spot.

Alex is touching himself. He has his face buried in between Henry's legs, eating his own come out of his ass, and he's touching himself as he does so. He's so eager, tongue lapping at Henry's hole like he's even tastier than those chocolate-covered strawberries, and all it seems that Henry is capable of doing is giving a loud, approving moan and fisting his cock faster.

"Darling," Henry gasps when Alex sucks on his rim. His cock is throbbing in his hand, desperately hinging on release. "I — I can't, you're so good —  _ Alex,  _ oh Christ —"

Alex groans from in between his ass cheeks, the sound so fucking erotic, and Henry is gone. He clenches around Alex tongue as his second orgasm of the night spills over his hand and onto his stomach. His body is shaking, he's sweaty and sore all over, but he's never felt more blissed out. A broken laugh escapes him before he can stop himself. Fuck. He's so spent, so out of it. It feels so fucking good.

He finds the barest amount of energy to tangle his fingers in Alex's curls and tug him up to his mouth, immediately slotting their lips together. The taste of himself is so prevalent on Alex's tongue, bitter and grimey and unbelievably sexy. Clearly Alex thinks so as well, judging by the way he bites on Henry's bottom lip and pushes his tongue further against his.

Alex shifts, his now-hard cock pressing intently against Henry's thigh, making him gasp and drop his mouth open even more. Alex grinds down on his thigh, his cock slick from a mix of lube and come. He feels Alex's hand on his, guiding it to his cock, and  _ fuck,  _ Alex is so hard, pulsing and moments away from coming himself. Their hands work on Alex's cock together, their lips hungry and oh-so desperate. Even still.

Alex draws back just long enough to mutter against his mouth, "I want to come on you."

Henry keens, nodding desperately. "Fuck, Alex, please."

Alex groans when he closes the space between them again, and his hand moves faster, stroking once, twice more before his body seizes up and he comes. Henry works him through his orgasm, stroking fast, letting Alex buck up into his fist, kissing him and kissing him and loving the feel of Alex's come dripping next to his own on his stomach.

"So good," he says quietly, kissing the corner of Alex's mouth. "You made me feel so good. I love you."

It takes Alex a minute to come back to his senses, his arms and legs still shaking, but he kisses Henry with soft lips and says it back: "I love you, too."

Henry lays there, catching his breath and holding Alex close to his chest, carding one hand through his damp hair. His mind is blissfully blank. He's only faintly aware of the come cooling uncomfortably on his skin, too distracted by the warmth of Alex's body against his and the soft kisses he leaves on his jaw and the enticing pull of sleep that is threatening to wash over him. His eyes start to flutter shut.

He isn't sure how long they stay like that until Alex gives a soft groan and starts to pull himself away. "I'll get you cleaned up," he promises with a kiss to his cheek.

Alex comes back with a warm washcloth in his hand and carefully wipes down Henry's chest and abdomen. "Good?" he asks.

Henry almost laughs. "It was wonderful," he answers, smiling lazily. "You spoil me. I shall never be able to have sex with a condom ever again."

"Yeah?" Alex chuckles, brushing strands of Henry's hair from his sweaty forehead. He bites his lip. "How... how do you feel?"

Henry hums, thinking. "Claimed," he says after a moment. "I can still feel you in me. I'm a little sore, but it's good. It's so good."

"Fuck," Alex says with an exhale. "That's — that's really hot, actually."

"Mmh, is it?"

"Yeah." Alex hesitates for barely a second. "We can keep doing that, you know. Obviously. And I fucking loved it too, I could feel you all around me, it was..." He trails off, not being able to find the right words. "But we could also, um. We could try it the other way. Someday. Maybe."

Henry blinks. "You mean —" He clears his throat. "You mean, like I fuck you?"

Alex bites his lip, lifting one shoulder. "Maybe...?"

Henry is suddenly much more alert than before. He scrambles to sit up. "Have you been thinking about this?"

"I mean, yeah," Alex says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "You always look so fucked out whenever I fuck you, like it's the best thing in the world, and I don't know. I'm curious. Like, I've tried fingering myself and all that, but I guess I'm not doing it right because it feels good but not  _ good  _ good, and —"

"Stop," Henry groans, dropping his head back. "You can't — you can't just casually tell me that you've tried fingering yourself and not expect me to get turned on again, Christ."

"Sorry, sorry," Alex laughs. "I know you're spent; we can talk about this some other time."

"Please," Henry mutters, kissing the underside of Alex's jaw.

Alex discards the washcloth in the bathroom and crawls under the covers with Henry, pulling him tightly to his chest, capturing his lips in another chaste kiss. Henry smiles through the kiss. For someone who has spent years and years dreading Valentine's Day, he thinks that this just about makes up for it. What's even better, he quickly realizes, is that they'll have the next year's Valentine's as well, and the next one, and the one after that, and they'll have all the Valentine's Days in the world to love each other and show each other their love; show the  _ world  _ their love. After so much war, after so much fighting, they emerged from the other side victorious and free and most importantly, together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


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